Yesterday was the roughest of days. I woke up with a stomach splitting, world-redefining pain in my stomach. Welp, no surprises what that’s from. The previous night, I had decided to forego my almost four years of vegetarianism. There was going to be stir-fry and it was going to have chicken. I know I know, absolutely wild.
Conclusion? I overdid it...by a country mile. Now lacking the enzymes to break down meat in my stomach, I spent the next 24 hours wondering if Death by chicken would be written on my tombstone. How depressing.
Immediately following my gastric wake up call, the next three minutes of consciousness included a phone call from the police asking me to move my car, an email from a student of mind wondering if I could get a recommendation to her by that morning and in my haste to move my car, I didn’t throw a jacket on and subsequently trysted with hypothermia. Upon returning to bed, I promptly passed out for the next three hours.
The roaring gut-tumult that governed my day kept me bedridden like a 17th century aristocrat. My attempt at going for a run, admittedly foolish in its conception, was quickly ki-boshed (as my mother would say) when I almost fell over my tights on.
The only real food I managed yesterday after 20+ hours of misery was miso soup. Miso is incredibly gentle on the stomach and is known for its healing properties. Given my loopiness by 9 pm, dunking mushrooms, spinach and tofu in miso broth was just about all I could muster.
Apparently this simple soup was a tonic to my woes; I’m feeling much better this morning. Let’s see if I can put my pants on without falling over. It’s the sign of a great day.
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